Moonshadow
by Elysia1
Summary: COMPLETE - Remus struggles coming to terms with Sirius' death. A missing moment of Remus angst. Not Slash.


**Moonshadow**

_"Harry!" I scream and I quickly grab the boy before he goes right in after him. I'm saying words although they don't make much sense, all I can think is that I have to hold him. He hits me again and again in his struggle, beating against my chest as he tries to break free._

It was instinct, I think. I certainly don't remember using any strength to hold him back - even though I remember him struggling so fiercely against me. Then again, I've always been strong. It's part of my nature.

_"He's gone, Harry, he's dead," I tell him and I see the young boy's face flicker with some sort of horrid understanding. As I look into his deep green eyes I know I'll never forget this moment. They are infinite, his eyes as they look at me this way, a watery green tunnel. It's sort of a soothing colour except for the pain behind it, the pain that's almost palatable. _

I try not to think about Harry as I pack up the boxes at Grimmuald Place. I had unnecessarily started myself in this room. Touching his things. Looking through his photographs.

"Come Remus, you don't have to do that now."

The voice disturbed me and I snapped out of my revere. Jolting at the sudden intrusion of a real voice. Unlike the echoes in my head, the whispers, the memories, unlike those echoes of laughter, tears, pain, cheer, hunger, excitement, rage, fear - I digress, we all know echoes are meaningless. I turned back to my task.

Molly Weasley walked in from the corridor bearing a sad, worried frown on her face.

"Remus," she coaxed, reaching for me. I didn't flinch.

She placed her hand over mine to stop me turning back to the littered desk. Her hand was curiously warm and I looked down at them. Hers looked young and mine looked old. Molly must be at least ten or twenty years older than us I think, I certainly don't remember her at Hogwarts. And still, her skin is a smooth lily white and her nails shiny and cut close to the finger. You couldn't tell that those hands spent half their time cooking and cleaning. Mine by comparison were older and looked used, with thick blonde hair on the knuckles. The messy box beside me was only half packed and I was clutching a photoframe so strongly that the skin on my knuckles looked paler than usual.

In the photo, the happy figures are waving up at us. I remember the day it was taken. So clearly now - yet it had almost been forgotten. It had been taken near the end of fourth year; Gryffindor had just won the house cup.

James dominated the photo; star chaser and centre of attention, always. His hair fell messily about his face, which was tanned and smiling. He was a vision - he hardly looked real. There was a flicker of something wild around him as he smiled wickedly at the camera for a moment. The sun seemed to glow, like it shone just for him. Just like the moon does for me. Except in James it brought out everything that was perfect. I could almost hear the cheering from the stands.

Then, James would glance at Sirius. The two were inseparable. It was a gentle glance, I don't think I'd ever seen him look at anyone else like that. Softly, not like he looked at Lily more like a common understanding, a secret or familiarity. It was like he saw everything about Sirius and still worshiped the ground he walked on. The feeling was mutual, they both begged to please each other.

There was a crowd in the background. Faces, mainly of people I can't really remember now. Peter stands out though, his chubby little face grinning at the pair. Then there is me, I can't believe my expression, I'm almost scowling. The photographer must have caught me just at the right moment, that semi second, that tiny minute, when my mask had fallen. Caught forever in that moment when I hated him, wanted to be him, wished he never existed, it was any wonder they thought I was the traitor.

"Please," Molly whispered, taking the frame from my hand, "you're freezing."

"I'm fine Molly," I say calmly, shaking my head with indifference. "It's important that we pack this stuff up. If Harry's staying here it might upset him. We can store it in his vault for now."

I dare not say his name, it might evoke him. I turned to pick the things from his desk. I start packing them into the box at a reasonable pace. I can feel Molly lingering behind me, unsure of what to say, welling with fear and anguish of her own.

"He was so young," she said quietly. She is looking at the photo, and her soft brown eyes were full of tears. She probably hadn't noticed me in the crowd, me and my scowl. I couldn't tell if she meant Sirius or James. I guess it doesn't matter which. They're both dead now.

"Oh Molly," I comforted moving around to hold her while she sobbed on my shoulder. "I don't think they would have wanted us to mope about like this. The important thing now is Harry, and the Order, we'll stop this, you'll see."

"Thanks," she muffled and composed herself quickly. She looked guilty, suddenly realising that it she was hear to comfort Remus and not the other way around.

"I'm sorry," Molly said, "it's silly me crying like this."

"Nonsense, I don't think you're being silly at all."

"Then why won't you let yourself cry," she shot. Molly continued on a softer note, "Remus, we are all worried about you…"

It had been well timed, I'll give her that. I reeled from the blow. She kept talking but everything else she said just seemed to fade out. A soft voice floating through the air and disrupting me from my thoughts. There was no point in them all being worried about me, after all, I'm no stranger to suffering.

Nobody was so concerned these last years, out of work, outcast.

I had no reason to cry then and I certainly don't now. You just have to keep on living. I can't afford to fall down in a mess, what about Harry, who would hold him back?

Sirius cared a little, I guess. I supposed he had to, but still, it was nice of him. He'd come back from Azkaban so hollow, and he'd needed someone. I'd held him those nights through his violent nightmares, guided him through his bouts of suicidal depression, battled my own terror to keep his at bay, taken on common sense for both of us when his failed.

I guess I didn't do to well on the last one.

Nobody blames me. That much I know, and Sirius was reckless, but I can't help but feel a little guilty.

I wonder if that's what's got me so depressed.

"Remus, Remus…" Molly was waving her hand in front of me. She must have been calling my name for some time.

"Sorry Molly," I said evenly, "guess I just dozed off. I'm getting a bit tired, when's dinner?"

Molly looked worried, and pale, "It's only four. Perhaps you should have a nap?"

"That's a good idea, I might do, this packing is hard work." I agreed to be agreeable, giving her a half smile.

She looked at me uncertainly, "we're just downstairs okay. I can make you an early snack if you'd like?"

"No Molly, I don't want to be any trouble. I'll just finish up with this box and take a little nap."

She nodded still concerned but left, I went on throwing his clothes into the box to fill it.

"Reducto," I muttered and Sirius' things shrunk to the size of a matchbox. If only the memory of him would do the same thing. I wonder if anyone has ever researched that particular aspect of magic. It would be quite interesting to see if you could shrink certain parts of the brain, like memories or mathematics. Perhaps you could store more like some sort of storage saver, but I guess they had pensieves for that.

I shook out of my musings as I realised the room was almost done. The room was almost bare, only the bed and the desk topped with little matchboxes sized storage remained. I felt tired, drained and when I went to massage my temples I realised how cold my fingers actually were.

I kicked off my shoes and climbed into the bed. I pulled the covers up so they were almost covering my head. My eyes still looked out. Staring at the ceiling I could see all the uneven bumps in the plaster, the little irregularities. I tried to join them in a game like connect the dots but it became too difficult.

Huffing I rolled over - face down into the pillow. It smelled so strongly of him. It's funny that I remember his smell. I drew great breaths trying to catch all of it - like it would disappear forever if I let it linger. Snuggling further down into the bed all I could smell was Sirius.

Sirius like he had just sat down at the breakfast table to smile at me -

Sirius like he had just been involved in some hilarious prank -

Sirius like he had just been running to see how I went in my exams -

Sirius like he had defended the people he loved -

Sirius who stood up for what was right even if it was standing against his family -

Sirius who would sneak out to get midnight feasts from the House-elves -

Sirius who laughed at my jokes -

Sirius like he had acted so selflessly and beautifully loving me when everyone else wouldn't dare - even Sirius as Padfoot running free with me in the Forbidden Forest making the worst aspect of my very existence that bit more bearable.

I hadn't even realised I was crying until I was gasping for air. It had been silent at first, my mouth pressed firmly closed as the salty tears made way down my ashen face, then thick sobs, and now I could hardly stop the shaking. I gripped the pillow tightly, fingers straining on the fabric, then beating on the mattress as I struggled to regain some composure. Hastily wiping tears from my face over and over and endless sniffling to keep from becoming a real mess. I needed tissues I realised as I couldn't bear wiping my face on Sirius' bed.

I got up and found a cloth I'd used for cleaning on the other side of the room. I felt so much better. I sat on the chair and pressed my eyes closed taking deep labored breaths, wiping my face from small fresh outbursts. It seemed to me that I repeated this for hours. Whenever I seemed to calm down I realised that I was no where near finished and would start up again. I'd remember the way he smiled, or some silly joke he'd told, or I'd see through the pearly teared vision some part of his room, or just the room itself. I'd start hyperventilating again until I'd slid to the floor racking with sobs and begging for this pain to be over.

It was worse than anything that I'd ever experienced, like cold hard ice being stabbed into my stomach, my heart, my face. I felt beaten with grief, like grief had taken me and punched over and over while I was down. While I was on the floor shaking it kicked me in the head and gut. Again, again, again.

I howled.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe.

I don't remember feeling this distressed after James and Lily. I remember shock of course, fear, denial, anger, sadness, the whole process in rapid succession and then a blank void. Like everything had been stolen from me and there was nothing I could do but wait till my turn.

Then that shifty temptress fate had dealt an unexpected hand.

Sirius.

Sirius Black.

Back from the dead.

Almost. I know that's how I felt. Suddenly something good had happened, I know I deserved it. A world so cruel and merciless had finally given something back. I can't explain the feeling when I found out they had Sirius all wrong.

"Padfoot," I had said as I had hugged him fiercely that night in the Shrieking Shack.

It wasn't long before it felt like old times. Sirius on the run from the law, he and I on a mission trying to track down that betrayer Wormtail.

I remember sitting by a wooden fire laughing at all the interesting ways we could dismember him. It was all a joke, a silly joke. We had both survived thirteen years of living hell - and we were laughing about feeding Peter's spleen to the Dursleys like it wasn't only the two of us left. Like we weren't about to go crazy if we thought about it for just one minute. If we thought about James, Lily, all we had already lost.

But it didn't matter. I felt alive again.

Oh! What a slap on the face it was. So violent fate was to fling me to the ground when I had only just regained my stance. How greedy he must be to give it and then snatch it back away.

_Sirius._

I ran my hands through my hair, using them to roughly massage my scull as I tried to put my thoughts together as they rushed though like a whirlwind of emotions, colours, feelings. Inside my head there was chaos.

I closed my eyes till it was over. I was calm, I knew it wasn't the end, in fact I had the distant feeling that we were in the eye of the storm. But it gave me hope, and I hoped that like the storm it would pass. Hoped that the next hand fate dealt would lose. But for now, now I'd batten down the hatches and be prepared for the next one.


End file.
